by Meghan Quinn
Feeling slightly frustrated, I step forward and put very little space between Hayden and me. “So, is there going to be a third date?”
He smiles sweetly and pulls me into a hug, his arms overlapping over my shoulders. It’s comforting, sweet, gentle . . . friendly.
“Of course. How about Thursday, after the game. We can go out for a drink with Alex and Lauren.”
Uhh, not the kind of third date I was thinking about. I’m about to protest when he unleashes me from his hold and steps back, putting both his hands in his pockets. Hands. In. His. Pockets. Is it me? Or would anyone else think he seems . . . put off right now?
I take a second to study him. His posture seems stiff, his eyes almost look guilty, and there is an air about him that seems like he’s on the verge of running, like a skittish cat waiting to flee.
The last thing I want to do is go on a third date with Hayden with my brother and his wife tagging along, but at this point, I don’t think there is much hope for anything else.
Swallowing hard, mimicking his stance, I nod. “Thursday sounds great. You really didn’t have to give us tickets. That was really sweet of you.”
“Ah, it’s nothing. It will be nice to have someone cheering me on.”
A bubble of humor pops out of me. “Hayden, you do realize that probably more than half of the arena will be cheering you on, right?”
He chuckles, his shoulders flexing as he shyly looks up at me. “I know that, but I mean, you know, someone I actually know. My family and friends tried to make it to as many games as possible, so I almost always had someone I knew watching me. Being traded out here, it’s been one of my worries, not having someone in my seats, cheering me on.”
It wouldn’t surprise me if he toed the ground and said, “Aw shucks,” at this point, that’s how adorably sweet he looks. Just like a little kid. How old is he again?
“I kind of want to put you in my pocket right now, you’re so cute.”
“Ah hell.” Hayden runs his hands over his face. “Just what every guy likes to hear.”
“It’s cute though. I don’t know, but for some reason, I have this preconceived notion about athletes being assholes, hot assholes, but assholes nonetheless. You’re throwing me for a loop.”
“Where did you get that notion from?”
I lean against the wall of my entryway and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve interviewed a few athletes, and they were boring, full of themselves, and after the cameras were turned off, they had no problem making a pass at me and my co-host. It was just . . . icky. I feel like that’s a good way to describe it.”
“Those guys don’t make up the majority of professional athletes. I promise, there are a lot of good guys out there.”
“I’m starting to understand that.” My lips turn up, and for some reason, I feel shy. Hayden is a genuinely nice guy. He doesn’t put on a front; he doesn’t act like someone he’s not. He’s honest and true, which in my eyes is very alluring.
“Well, I should get going. Thanks for having me over, Noely. I had an awesome time, and I might have a new favorite movie.”
I point my finger at him, growing serious. “Don’t you dare tease me.”
He holds his hands up in defense. “I would never. You’ve Got Mail is a good movie. Talk about the perfect way to get a girl. I mean, that dude was romantic as hell.”
“Something you would emulate?”
Hayden shrugs, hands back in his pockets. “Who knows? Maybe. Wooing a girl anonymously, winning her over by just learning about her through her mind. That’s sexy. There’s something beautiful about learning about a person through their brain rather than their looks.”
“Yeah?” I bite my bottom lip. “Is that why you’re standing over there, avoiding any kind of physical connection with me?”
He chuckles, bending his head slightly only to look up at me through his impossibly long eyelashes. “I’m standing over here because a heated relationship, well, if that’s what you want to call it, consumed me.”
“Is this the relationship you’ve brought up a few times?”
He nods, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, it was like we didn’t take a damn second to enjoy each other. From the beginning it was zero to sixty, but I feel like we also had an alarm clock counting down our days until I left for California. Doomed from the beginning.”
I study him. There’s something in his eyes telling me there’s more to this story than he’s saying. I start connecting the dots in my head. He wants a relationship like the one he used to have. He wants to hold hands, he wants to develop a friendship, but he doesn’t want to take things too fast. With me.
Is he still reeling from his last relationship? Did this girl actually mean something to him?
“Did you really like her? Like . . . like her, like her?”
His strong hand grips the back of his neck, his palm and fingers really pulling on his skin. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over, and I’m starting a new chapter in my life.”
That’s a solid answer full of avoidance. I think I might have just struck a nerve and come to a conclusion as to why he’s been a little standoffish and friendly, rather than passionate. He’s scarred, and a little bent from his previous relationship. But is he actually over her or still trying to find his way?
If I didn’t know Hayden’s intention behind joining the program, I would throw in the towel right now. But he needs time and maybe someone new, someone refreshing.
I don’t want to be feeling hurt by this, because Hayden hasn’t been deliberately playing with my feelings, but part of me wonders whether Lynne vetted the men as much as she did me. I had to prove to her that I was looking for long-term, not just a show gimmick. And yet, the three men I’ve spent time with haven’t actually been ready to move toward a long-term relationship.
And with Hayden? I haven’t had the same warm fuzzies and butterflies, but there have been moments of spine tingles. I’m thoroughly enjoying getting to know him and can see an awesome friendship developing.
But, and sadly, I think it is a big but. Does he want someone else to own his heart yet? Is he ready for someone like me?
Chapter Twenty-Six
NOELY
Noely,
Tickets are being held at will call for you, your brother, and your sister-in-law. There are also jerseys waiting for you as well with your preferred sizes. If they don’t fit, I’ve already informed the merch store to let you switch sizes. I really hope you guys have fun, and don’t forget to cheer me on.
#1 At Being Prepared
Hayden,
Uh, talk about organized. Thank you so much. You really didn’t have to do all this. You’re seriously making my brother’s year. I don’t think he will ever stop talking about this game. It hasn’t even happened and he’s already talked my ear off about it.
I owe you.
Noely
Noely,
You owe me nothing, just your cheering, and maybe a congratulatory hug after.
As for your brother, is he one of those guys who would dive around in the stands, begging to be hit in the head by a puck? Why do I think he might have this passionate need to be branded by an ice biscuit to the skull?
Also, how did your coworkers like the popcorn? Were you the popular girl that morning?
#1 Popcorn Supplier
Hayden,
If Alex had a chance to be whipped, kicked, slapped, and branded by a puck, he would take it, no questions asked. Pretty sure he would close his eyes and point to his head, marking a bullseye for the person shooting at him. He has zero self-respect.
As for the popcorn, gone in a day. My coworkers were savages and actually fought over the bags, it was . . . embarrassing and also comical to watch. I saw someone use a computer mouse as a weapon. You caused a riot with that popcorn, but I will tell you, I was very popular that day. So thank you.
Have you told any of your teammates about You’ve Got Mail? Are you all going to watch it on your first away trip of the s
eason?
Noely
Noely,
I knew the popcorn was going to make you friends, not that you have to make friends. Just from getting to know you, I can tell you’re a people person.
And you’ll be happy to know, I brought You’ve Got Mail up in the weight room and I’ve not only gained interest from my teammates in the Joe Fox swagger, but I also gained interest from the training staff. A few of the guys have said they’ve seen the movie but haven’t seen it in a long time. Looks like we might have a movie to watch on our first away trip. I’m almost tempted to create a Joe Fox workbook, something we can all take notes in, because that man has no qualms in owning up to his faults and mistakes. Hell, he made a woman fall in love with him who truly and utterly hated him, to the core. Seriously . . . *stands and claps*
#1 Fan of Joe Fox
Hayden,
I’m glad to hear you’re spreading the news about You’ve Got Mail, really expanding the love for the movie. But I must say, I’m a little nervous. Your passion for Joe Fox is becoming borderline unhealthy. Yes, he won Meg Ryan over with his charm, unexpected drop-ins, and jokes, but I think Tom Hanks was a rarity in this movie. I’m not sure how realistic his character is.
I don’t want you to be misled. So before you go and try to put me out of my morning show job and try to do a reverse act of love, I suggest you study the movie a few more times before you start applying your “Joe Fox” swagger in real life.
Also, can’t wait for the game!
Noely
Noely,
So I detect a little jealousy? You’re warning me off using Joe Fox techniques because maybe you want me all to yourself? Could that be the case? Don’t worry, Noely, you’re the apple of my eye right now. (said in cheesy voice with hands to heart while bent on one knee) <- - Dramatic but charming.
And I can’t wait for the game either. The guys have been dope here. I think we could have a shot at the cup. I know every team says that, but we have a lot of young, hungry men on this team. They want a championship and I want to help get us there.
And in case you were wondering, the snow cones are shit, the pretzels sub par, but the nachos, they’ll win you over. Choose right, Noely.
#1 Concession Stand Know It All
Hayden,
Jealousy? Pffft, what’s that? I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of anything in my life. But if you use your Joe Fox moves on anyone else but me I will cut you! < - - See what happens when you spark the crazy? :)
Seriously, you made my girly bits all tingly with your confidence for a championship win this year. The Quakes need a break and if you say this might be the year, I will hand out all kinds of sexual favors to your teammates to make sure it happens. I want to go to a play-off game so bad!
And . . . snow cones are trash, the pretzels need more salt, and the nachos are heaven in my mouth, extra jalapenos. Thursday, I’ll be the girl in the stands, raising hell with the officials while nacho cheese drips down my face. I have no respect for myself while at hockey games.
Just a heads-up.
Noely
Noely,
Tingling girly bits, sexual favors to my teammates (this is unacceptable), and a nacho-cheese dripping, yelling banshee? What did Going in Blind get me into?”
#1 Fan of Your Brand of Crazy
***
“I really think I’m going to faint.” Alex waves his hand in front of his face, clutching his jersey from Hayden to his chest while he looks over the rink. The players are warming up, the stands are filling, and the concession stands are humming with greasy, overpriced goodness.
“Please don’t faint. That would be utterly humiliating,” Lauren says, not paying attention to her husband, but rather ogling the men on the ice.
“Yeah, no fainting allowed. Why don’t you go take our seats and watch warm-ups? I’m going to grab a beer and some nachos for myself.”
“Want to grab some beer for us?” Lauren asks with a hopeful look in her eye.
Leveling with her, I ask, “What did I tell you on the way over?”
“You brought us to the game, but you’re not here to spoil us. You’re in your own element and to not embarrass you.”
“Exactly.” I tug on my Hayden Holmes jersey that’s a little snug around my chest. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some nachos and a beer. Please don’t act like fawning idiots.”
I start to walk away when Alex calls out to me. “I love you, Noely. You’ve made my year.”
I let out a heavy sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What kind of beer do you want?”
“Sam Adams,” they both say in unison, as if they were planning this the entire time. I wouldn’t put it past them.
Slightly irritated but also happy for Alex and Lauren, who are gingerly moving down the arena steps to our designated seats, I make my way to my favorite nachos stand. I know this stadium inside and out. I know where all the draft beer is, where the bottles are, where the trash snow cones reside, and where the best nachos on the planet exist.
It took me a few games to figure it all out, but I’ve got it down now. The best nachos are right by the merch store and the best draft beer is diagonal from the nachos. It’s a quick one, two pick-up. And if you walk yourself behind the kiosk vendors, you run into less people, which means less people to crash into your precious nachos. I learned that the hard way one game where a kid ran into me, slamming my nachos into my chest and giving me cheese boob for the rest of the game. Of course, his parents were nowhere to be found so it wasn’t like I could wring their pockets for more nacho money. Frugal, no. I wanted justice for my spilled nachos and that’s not too much to ask for.
Making my way past rowdy fans, children wearing oversized jerseys—some Hayden Holmes jerseys, how cute—and the myriad of promotional games, I spot my nachos bar . . . with a long line.
Not surprised. Looks like my secret might be out.
Resigning to a wait, I take my place in line and pull out my phone to text Hayden good luck just as someone bumps into me from behind.
“Fancy seeing you here?”
I know that voice . . .
Spinning around, I turn to face a pair of eyes I’ve stared into in the most intimate ways.
“Beck, oh my God, hi.” He scoops me into a hug and squeezes me tightly. It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve seen him and he still has the same effect on me.
“Sassy, how are you?”
When I pull away, my hands skim down his arms, my gaze fixed on his scruff-filled jaw and transfixing eyes. God, I forgot how attractive he is. How that’s possible, I have no idea, but for a brief second, I wonder if breaking things off with Beck was a smart move.
He looks so fresh, so free, so demon free. Then again, he was good at having a good time, of pushing his past behind him and focusing on the here and now.
“I’m good, how are you?” I give his arm a squeeze before putting my hands in my pockets. No need to get too handsy with this man. “You look good.”
He winks. “Thanks, Sass.” He takes me in, my skinny jeans and tight-fitting top. “You look damn good yourself.” I love how he still calls me Sassy. It’s our thing, and I like that we have a thing. But should I? Is that wrong? Looking at him, being enveloped by his scent, the words he rumbled at me before we parted come back loud and strong. “If you don’t find Prince Charming right away, message me, okay?” Does that offer actually still stand? Noely. Why would you want to know that? He nibbles on the corner of his lip and my body immediately heats up, the urge to have him touch me, to lean into me, to press his lips against my skin is entirely too overwhelming.
And we stare, the energy between us sparking, igniting a flame that never really died, only simmered.
This is not good.
You’re with Hayden right now. You’re here to support him. You’re having drinks with him later . . . with your brother. God.
Clearing my throat, I try to diffuse the sexual chemistry between us with conversa
tion. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were a huge hockey fan.”
“My buddy got tickets, dragged me along. Nachos are my jam, so figured I’d at least get my filling in cheese and chips while I’m here. What about you?” His eyes knowingly light up. “Happen to be here for a certain jock you might be seeing?” The way he wiggles his eyebrows, that smirk on his handsome face, I just want to reach up and kiss him.
“So you’ve seen the morning show?”
“Watch it every morning.” He rocks back on his heels. “I have to see who my sassy ends up with.”
Okay, my heart is beating a mile a minute. It almost feels like I’ve been running an endless marathon. I’m breathless, my body heated, electrified . . . horny. Having Beck Wilder standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking sexier than ever with his five o’clock shadow, devastating smirk, and broad, confident posture, I’m concerned by how much I want him. I shouldn’t still want him, but I can feel myself weakening.
“I got to tell you, you’ve moved from The Suit, to The Rebel, to The Jock, all very different. Who are you feeling the most?”
Well, the one I’ve FELT the most is The Rebel, but I’m not about to tell him that, not with the way he’s unabashedly looking at me. He knows, I can see it in his eyes. He knows he’s the one who’s held me the most, the one who’s been the most intimate.
Trying to play coy, I say, “I don’t think that is any of your business. My time with The Rebel came to an end.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Sassy.” He nods at the line for me to move forward.
Overtly confident and tempting as hell, he stares at me, boring a hole deep in my bones, reminding me just how much this man so easily consumed me. He’s dangerous for sure. Need I remind everyone of the humping on a motorcycle? See, dangerous. He’s bad news, a troublemaker, an excellent deliverer of orgasms . . . I mean, no, he’s . . . he’s . . . God, he’s so hot.
Chuckling to myself, maybe from the way I’m staring like a carp with its mouth open, he asks, “What do you get on your nachos?”
